Juggling Act Take Two
by JanetD
Summary: This is a different take on the beginning of my story “Juggling Act”.


**Title:** Juggling Act Take Two (1/1)  
**Date Written:** 6/24/02  
**Author: **JanetD  
**Rating:** PG (language)  
**Summary:** This is a different take on the beginning of my story Juggling Act. It is told from Burton's perspective, and some of the events depicted in Juggling Act have been changed.  
**Author's Notes:** 1) Thanks to Meghan and Sara for their suggestions. 2) It may be unrealistic, but in this version the paramedics do not take Mandy to the hospital. Determining that she is beyond help, they leave her for the coroner.  
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual organization is purely coincidental.  
  
It was a warm night in late May. The quiet residential street lay bathed in moonlight. All was still, until the wail of approaching sirens disturbed the peace of the tranquil Shadyside neighborhood. As Burton Fallin pulled away from the curb, he vaguely registered the sound of sirens in the distance. As he drove, he reflected on his recent meeting with Nick. His son hadn't wanted to listen to anything he had to say. He'd appeared to resent his very presence on his doorstep. thought Burton, I told him what he needed to hear... what I needed to say. He knows now. That's the important thing. He let out a long sigh, and frowned. It hadn't been an easy decision to make... to decide to tell Nicholas about the deal he'd made to keep him out of prison. Especially after the lengths he'd gone to keep it a secret from Nick in the first place, including bearing his son's scorn the day he'd finally admitted that the reason Caldwell was at the firm was because he'd had to make a deal with him. Nicholas had looked at him then with such disdain in his eyes, such contempt. Burton's frown deepened. That had been rough to take, knowing that he'd done what he did for Nick's sake, but not being able to justify his actions to his son. Really rough, but he'd kept to his resolve to keep Nick ignorant of the real facts. It was only when Nathan Caldwell had informed him that that little shit Lichtman had records of their dealings that Burton had decided that the best way to protect Nicholas was to tell him the truth. So that's what he had done... told his son the truth. Now he knew everything that Lichtman knew.  
  
----+----  
  
About an hour and a half had passed since Burton had left Shadyside, and he was just now pulling into his garage. He hadn't felt like returning home to his empty house after his encounter with Nick, so he'd driven for a long time, reflecting on his checkered history with his son, especially this last year and a half since Nick's arrest. God, sometimes he really wished there was a way to turn back the clock, to right old wrongs. But there wasn't... not in this life. You could only go forward, never back.  
  
Burton walked slowly into the kitchen, fighting a sense of defeat. He really felt his age tonight, felt every one of his 68+ years weighing heavily on him. His mind continued to worry at the conversation with Nicholas there at the house. He was still bothered by Nick's attitude. You'd have thought he couldn't stand the sight of his father at that moment. Huh. Releasing a heavy sigh, Burton walked over to the counter where the phone and answering machine were located. Seeing that the message light was blinking, he pressed play'. In a moment, he heard the automated announcement of the date and time of the call, then Nick's voice. As Burton listened to his son's words his face reflected a wide range of emotions: initial curiosity that Nicholas would have called so soon after he'd left his side, deep sadness at the agony apparent in his son's voice as he struggled to make his ragged apology, startled gratitude as he heard Nick's I love you, and finally fear. Fear that this broken-hearted message from Nicholas was some kind of plea for help, some kind of, of veiled suicide note. At this thought, Burton picked up the receiver, and dialed his son's cell phone. After a few rings, Nick's voice mail message came over the line. Burton hung up, and quickly dialed Nick's home phone number. After four rings, he heard the answering machine pick up. Frustrated, Burton hung up the phone abruptly, and grabbed the car keys that he had only moments ago laid down on the counter. If he couldn't get hold of Nick by phone he'd just have to go back to the house. As he shut the door behind him he fervently prayed that he'd find his son safe and sound.  
  
----+----  
  
As Burton approached his son's home he could see two police cars and what appeared to be some other official vehicle all double-parked in the street. His heart began to beat at twice it's normal rate. Pulling up behind the second cruiser, Burton quickly exited the car, and made for the house. As he drew near he was intercepted by a uniformed police officer.  
  
Hold it, sir, the police officer said firmly. You can't go in there. It's a crime scene.  
  
A crime scene, Burton said urgently. What kind of crime scene? He attempted to get around the young officer, but the man moved to block his way.  
  
Someone died in there. You can't go in.  
  
Burton said, deeply distressed. That's my son's house... Was it my- Before he could complete the question, Burton and the policeman were distracted by the emergence from the house of two men carrying a gurney. The gurney was occupied, but a blanket was pulled completely up over the occupant's head, concealing his or her features.  
  
Is that my son? Burton got out in a tortured voice. In the illumination from the street lamp, the patrolman could see that all the blood had drained out of the old man's face. He seemed to falter on his feet, and the officer put out a hand to steady him.  
  
No. No, he hastened to assure the distraught father. It's a woman. It's a woman who died.  
  
Burton couldn't say anything for a moment. The relief he found in that statement was too overwhelming. After a minute the officer felt that it was safe to withdraw his hand, and when he did, Burton asked, Who? Who was it? How did she die?  
  
From what I hear she was hit on the head, the policeman answered. Then he called back over his shoulder to a second officer. Joe, what was the name of the stiff?   
  
Gresler. Mandy Gresler, Joe replied in a bored voice.  
  
Burton searched his mind, but was sure he didn't know the name Mandy Gresler'. Who could she be? And the officer had said that she'd been hit on the head... Could Nick have delivered the fatal blow? Oh, God!   
  
What happened? Burton asked urgently, his heart racing once again.  
  
The young patrolman knew he shouldn't be discussing these details with the suspect's father, but he still felt bad about the shock the old man had received thinking it was his son beneath that blanket. he said slowly, I hear there was a struggle. She fell hard and hit her head. But they'll have to wait on the autopsy to know for sure.   
  
She hit her head?  
  
  
  
Burton nodded, relieved at this clarification of events. Where's my son? he asked quickly.  
  
The patrolman shifted his stance, and reached up to adjust his cap. I understand they took him in for questioning. That was probably an hour, or more, ago.  
  
Where? What station? Burton demanded.  
  
The younger man couldn't see any harm in giving the old guy this information. It was Det. Darger from Homicide that took him in. That would be the main station on Jefferson.   
  
Burton nodded. Thank you. Thank you, Officer. You've been very helpful. With that Burton headed back to his car.   
  
As Burton drove to the police station his mind was racing. What had happened? Who was that woman, and why was Nick struggling with her? My God, what had Nicholas gotten himself mixed up in this time? He knew he'd have to wait for all those answers, but the not knowing was pure torment.  
  
----+----  
  
Burton strode purposefully into the Jefferson St. Police Station, and made a beeline for the front desk. I want to see Det. Darger, he said with force, before the officer behind the counter even had time to raise his eyes.  
  
What's your name, sir, and what do you want to see the detective about? Sgt. Harrison asked calmly.  
  
My name's Burton Fallin. Det. Darger brought my son in for questioning tonight, and I want to speak with him.  
  
Just a minute. The desk officer picked up the phone, and dialed a number. In a moment he spoke, Yeah, this is Harrison at the front desk. I've got a man down here who wants to talk to Darger. Says he's the father of a suspect Darger is questioning. Name's Fallin... Uh-huh.  
  
Looking back up at Burton, the sergeant said, The detective's busy right now. He can't see you.  
  
Give me that, Burton said brusquely, reaching forward and grabbing the receiver out of Harrison's hand. Speaking into the phone he said sternly, This is federal judge Burton Fallin. Who am I speaking to... Well, Miss Lambert, you tell your detective that I want to speak with him NOW. I want some answers, and he does NOT want to keep me waiting.  
  
The desk sergeant looked on with interest as Burton waited impatiently to see if his demand would bear fruit. At last, Harrison heard him say in a kinder tone, Fine. I'll be right up. Thank you, Miss Lambert.  
  
Without a word, Sgt. Harrison walked out from behind the desk, and opened the door that led to the inner recesses of the police station. Holding an arm out to point the way, he said to Burton, Up those stairs, and to the right. You'll see a door marked Homicide'. Good luck, Judge.  
  
Thank you, Sergeant, Burton replied, and he was gone.  
  
----+----  
  
The three men that sat around the table in the interrogation room were a varied lot. The youngest was dressed in an expensive black suit, his blue shirt undone at the collar. He looked pale and visibly distraught. His hair was a mess from repeatedly raking his hands through it. Next to him sat a man in his fifties, white-haired, with glasses, wearing casual pants and a short-sleeved shirt. His face was the picture of calm. Across the table sat another man, also in his fifties. He was the exact opposite of the gentleman whose age approximated his own. This man was slim with dark hair, a mustache, and dark, almost beady eyes. His hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore a leather jacket over his beige dress shirt. His tie was loosened. It was obvious that he was in control of the session that was currently in progress. Okay, Fallin, let's go over it again, he was saying when a knock came at the door. An officer walked into the room, and whispered something into his ear. Det. Darger nodded. I'll be back, was all he said, before rising, and leaving the two men alone.   
  
Nicholas Fallin sat back in his chair, and drew in a deep breath. He rubbed at the tense muscles in the back of his neck, then brought his body forward again, and cradled his head in his hands. You're doing fine, Nick, his lawyer Robert Colden sought to assure him. Just fine. Darger knows this was an accident. That is, if this girl didn't die from an overdose. Based on the amount of coke you told me she'd done today, that's entirely possible.  
  
Nick made no response, just continued to sit mute, with his head in his hands. In about five minutes, he heard the click of the door latch, and looked up to find Darger coming back into the room. The detective resumed his seat at the table before he spoke.   
  
Okay, Fallin, I have a few more questions. You answer them to my satisfaction, and I'm going to let you go. Nick nodded, but the flare of hope he felt did not make it to his eyes.  
  
Darger began, tell me again what Mandy said to you when she got to your house.  
  
Nick sat up. With an exhausted sigh, he began to explain once more what had transpired when Mandy had shown up at his doorstep.  
  
----+----  
  
Burton Fallin was sitting in the police station lobby. Every time the door that led back to the interior of the station opened, he would look up hopefully. He had wrung a commitment out of that detective Darger to not keep Nick too much longer. That had been nearly a half an hour ago, and Burton was getting antsy. He longed to see his son and find out exactly what had happened tonight - who this woman was, and how she had come to die in Nick's house. He'd heard part of the story from Darger, but he wanted to hear it from Nick. He needed to hear it from Nick.  
  
Just then the door opened again, and Nick and his lawyer Robert Colden came through. That had been one of the first things Burton had assured himself of in talking to Darger, that Nick's lawyer was there with him. Burton stood up. He had to control an almost overwhelming desire to rush up to his son. Instead he occupied himself with observing Nick's current state. His son was still dressed in the suit he'd worn to work that day, but his tie was missing, and his shirt was unbuttoned several inches below his collarbone. His hair was mussed, but what really struck Burton was the defeated look on Nick's face. He looked completely done-in, as if he had taken as much as he could stand that night - as if he couldn't stand any more. Burton immediately felt his heart go out to his son. Nick's appearance, combined with the memory of that excruciating phone call, urged Burton to take Nick in his arms and assure him that everything was going to be all right. But it had been many years since he'd held Nick in such an embrace, and he knew his son wouldn't welcome it now. So he stayed where he was, and waited for Nick and Colden to come to him.  
  
Robert Colden said pleasantly as they walked up. He didn't seem surprised to see the older Fallin.  
  
Burton acknowledged the other man's greeting, but didn't taken his eyes off his son. Nick's head was bent, and he was refusing to meet his father's eyes. Burton grimaced internally, remembering the last time they'd played out this same scene.  
  
Nick's free to go, Colden was saying. Det. Darger just wants to make sure he stays in town until this is all sorted out. He'll need a place to stay-  
  
He can stay with me, Burton said quickly, not allowing the other man to finish his statement. He examined Nick for any sign of reaction to this proposal. When none came, he said softly, Okay, son? Nick nodded without looking up. Burton said louder, exhaling a long breath. Anything else, Bob?  
  
No. No. Not right now. As it stand now it's a matter of waiting for the coroner's report. The autopsy will determine the cause of death, and we'll go from there. Reaching out to Nick, Colden placed his hand on the younger man's arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Just hang in there, Nick. You're going to get through this. You'll see.  
  
Nick nodded, and spoke the first sentence his father had heard from him since learning of this latest mess. Thanks, Bob, he said sincerely, raising his head to look the other man in the eye. I appreciate you're being here tonight. Thank you.  
  
You're welcome. I'll see you later, Nick... Burton. With that Colden left the two Fallins alone.  
  
The two men stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then Burton said, Come on, son. Let's get out of here.  
  
Nick nodded, and started for the door, his father trailing close behind.  
  
The End  
  
Author's Note: The rest would pretty much go as I wrote it in my original story...


End file.
